


“Girls just wanna have fun”, a SW vignette for my OC character Nagina

by AzureAngel2



Series: Tyrian purple, a vignette collection concerning Palpatine´s niece (my OC) [20]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-15 16:47:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11235120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AzureAngel2/pseuds/AzureAngel2
Summary: Summary: In the middle of the night a member of the Separatist army, and therefore a war criminal in the eyes of the Republic, is ordered on an unusual mission. The person who sends her on that mission is not someone to be trifled with.Time frame: The story takes place about 4 months after the start of the Clone Wars (22 BBY).Planet of choice: Coruscant





	“Girls just wanna have fun”, a SW vignette for my OC character Nagina

**Title: “Girls just wanna have fun”, a Nagina vignette**

_I had to escape, the city was sticky and cruel_  
_Maybe I should have called you first_  
_But I was dying to get to you_

_I was dreaming while I drove_  
_The long straight road ahead_  
_Uh-huh, yeah_

_Could taste your sweet kisses, your arms open wide_  
_This fever for you was just burning me up inside_  
_I drove all night to get to you_  
_Is that all right?_  
_I drove all night, crept in your room_  
_Woke you from your sleep to make love to you_  
_Is that all right?_  
_I drove all night_

_What in this world keeps us from falling apart?_  
_No matter where I go_  
_I hear the beating of our one heart_  
_I think about you when the night is cold and dark_  
_Uh-huh, yeah_

_No one can move me the way that you do_  
_Nothing erases this feeling between me and you_  
_I drove all night to get to you_  
_Is that all right?_

_I drove all night, crept in your room_  
_Woke you from your sleep to make love to you_  
_Is that all right?_  
_I drove all night_

_Could taste your sweet kisses, your arms open wide_  
_This fever for you was just burning me up inside_

_I drove all night to get to you_  
_Is that all right?_  
_I drove all night, crept in your room_  
_Is that all right?_  
_I drove all night_

 

Leisure time between your war missions is a rare thing. As a commander in your Master's Separatist droid army you have to be accessible all around the clock. On occasion you also serve as an assassin in the employ of the Sith. But in the end you are still some kind of slave. An asset really, a tool.

A long time ago things were very different for you though. You were but a happy, little girl on Dathomir, loved and cared for. Only in your dreams you allow yourself to walk memory lane. Allow yourself to return to the Nightsister lair. To return to innocence.

Count Dooku is a harsh master. But even he serves somebody more vicious and much more powerful: Darth Sidious.

Puzzled, you stare at the hooded holo image of one of the greatest Sith sorcerers to have ever lived.

“I repeat,” the voice says, not even bothering to feign friendliness, “Bring along a pyjama, slippers, a tooth brush and no questions asked. Ever!”

Your lips pinch together in thought.

“Can you do it ?” the mighty Sith lord probes, getting more and more impatient.

“Yes,” you answer solemnly.

The amounts of credits this job will bring you is more than generous. It is the ransom for a senator or a princess.

“I'll be in touch! Do not disappoint me!” Darth Sidious grunts and switches off the connection with no further word of good-bye.

Scratching your bold head somewhat clueless, you walk towards your 'wardrobe'. It is but an old, shabby looking utility closet, that used to belong to the former caretaker of this factory compound.

“Pyjamas,” you mumble.

You never had one of those, but one of your tank tops and a baggy trouser might do. At least those items are clean. Worn, of course, but you do not possess much clothing. Not that you have an actual private life going on. Dooku keeps you like a beast on his premises in between jobs.

You twist your hands in agitation.

Being his Sith apprentice is not like you imagined it to be. There is no respect, no fairness. You have to be on alert constantly.

With a sigh, you keep on rummaging through your stuff. You are sure that even a Jedi knight has more articles of clothing at his or her disposal.

Instead of slippers, because you lack those, too, you seize a pair of woollen socks. There is a tiny hole in one of them. If you are lucky, the lady whom you need to protect tonight will not notice.

You start to feel more and more like a street rat. Like one of those low lives you keep running into Coruscant's lowest levels.

Your greatest problem remains that you do not possess an actual tooth brush.

Gingerly, you put your hand in front of your mouth and blow into your palm. Once, twice and, to be definitely sure, a third time.

“Great!” you mutter to yourself. “I smell like a sarlacc pit.”

At least you have the explanation why Skywalker looked so disgusted during his last duel with you.

Lacking mouth rinse you choose to gurgle with some Corellian brandy, which you hide in a special place from Dooku's attention. Usually, you use it just for attending to flesh wounds.

To waste the precious drops of alcohol does not sit well with you, but it cannot be helped. You do not want your subject, whoever she is to Darth Sidious, to go unconscious when you address her.

You give yourself a last check in the broken mirror.

A myriad of Ventresses stares back at you.

The lines of some bogus song you recently heard on Radio Coruscant comes back into your mind.

_“Where in the world,_  
_Where in the world,_  
_Where in the world did I get this hurt._  
_I don't mind._  
_Yeah I don't mind.”_

Dooku's fingerprints are still visible around your throat. All the other wounds are perfectly hidden under your tight leather catsuit. There is no need to worry the subject too much. You do not need her pity.

Cursing the little Huttling who brought your injuries upon you, you stuff your belongings in a backpack.

You should never have accepted that mission. It seemed too easy. Too fool-proof.

For your failure, Dooku water-boarded you for hours, using bantha piss and a burlap bag. To get you back into consciousness he gave you electro shocks with an energy pike. When that was not enough, he wrapped a piece of soap into a towel and gave you a thorough beating.

“Damn you, Rotta Desilijic Tiure!”

You shake a fist against the mirror and leave your quarters.

The LiMerge building is a gloomy affair at night time. It possesses nothing of the beauty of the lair that you grew up in. When you close your eyes, you can almost see the azure light and the opaque pools of water.

It is strange that you have to think of Dathomir tonight. Perhaps the loneliness within this rotting industrial building gets to you after days of hiding and pain.

Kidnapping Jabba's baby son did not go as planned thanks to Skywalker and that skinny Togruta padawan of his.

With a roar you kick open the door of a run-down shack.

The speeder bike that you hide in here is an older model, but sturdy enough to bring you where you need to be.

The address that has been given to you is nearby. It is actually at CoCo town, which is part of the Works.

Of course you could have declined the mission, but it did not seem worth the trouble. To anger Darth Sidious is dangerous and tonight he was strangely emotional. As far as you know he is off-world with your master. Possibly on Serenno. You are pretty sure that he would have taken care of the lady in question otherwise.

A smile spreads over your face.

Perhaps the great Sith master is vulnerable after all.

Not much later you race the speeder through the night, wearing a dented helmet.

In front of the apartment block where your subject lives you pause the machine with your engines still running.

Why have you been sent to a middle class area? Is he hiding his mistress in plain sight? Or did she leave him and came to live here after?

Middle class people are pathetic. The majority of them tries to find goodness in such dark times still. They cling on to fragile hope and a moral compass that is outdated. Only the strong will survive the Clone Wars and its aftermath.

When a shoe comes down on your engine bonnet, accompanied by some rude curses in Rodian, you turn the engine off.

You wish you would know more about the mission and the actual person that you need to guard tonight.

In dismay you take off your helmet and pull a hood over your exposed head immediately.

After the disaster on Tatooine you need to run a low profile for a while. You cannot have informants make known were you are. Neither the Jedi order nor to the notorious under-world boss Jabba should come to know where you are at present.

Instead of taking the direct route – the entrance door with the intercom - you start climbing the _façade_. You cannot help your instincts as an assassin. It is only three floors anyway.

When you reach your destination, a pale face startles you.

Before you know what happens, a window is opened, you are yanked inside and the barrel of a rifle is directed at you.

_“Ban gon wan she co, cah. Noah, noah, Nagina!”_ Aurra Sing, the most notorious female bounty hunter on the market, snarls without taking her eyes of you. _There will be no bargain. No, no, Nagina!_

_“Chess ko, Nashtah! Coo wolpa tooney rana.”_ A chubby human in her late thirties steps in the line of fire, showing a grace that astonishes you. _Careful, Nashtah! This one's very well connected._

The AS rifle 2000s will blow your head off no doubt. But you keep calm in the face of danger.

You could kill both women without even blinking, but you are too curious to make their acquaintance. Too see what they are capable of.

“When somebody shows up at my window in the middle of the night, I fire straight away,” the female bounty hunter complains in plain basic. “No silly questions asked.”

“Perhaps Mistress Ventress would like a Wookie Cookie,” the plump human wonders and beams at you, as if you were the guest of honour during a party. But underneath her bright smile you detect a pain too great to describe with mere words.

You frown.

“Those cookies are mine and mine alone,” states Aurra Sing and looks mighty pissed off.

“Nashtah, please!” The subject, obviously called Nagina, wraps her arms around the other woman. “Perhaps he sent her.”

You remain on the floor, staring up.

“We don't know that for certain,” says the pale alien in her orange jump suit. “She could also be here to assassinate you.”

Instead of committing a double murder, that would please you immensely, you offer, “I was sent to this address with my pyjamas, my slippers and a tooth brush. My client told me it's an emergency case.”

That makes the chubby human clap her hands together and you must confess that you find her enthusiasm strangely contagious. “See, he worries about me. Since he is with Dooku at present, she would be the only logical choice. To send Grievous would have been too awkward.”

The rifle sinks.

“Awkward? His troops killed your husband last week,” Aurra Sing thunders.

An enormous wail fills the apartment and the human sinks down on the floor. Her tears fall like rain.

“Nagina!” Aurra Sing, her features completely derailed, throws the rifle away. “I am so stupid. Please forgive me!”

You keep watching the women, one holding the other as gently as a friend would. No, you correct yourself, as a sister would.

It brings you back to a place were you should not be right now. To a place where women had treated each other like sisters and men had been of no great significance. Where one could go to bed without fear and terror in the heart.

Aurra Sing rocks Nagina back and forth like a distressed child. “You know what, pumpkin?” she purrs. “Let us pray that beautiful moon prayer of your Naboo goddess together.”

A moon goddess.

Once the Nightsisters worshipped one, too. The dark mother of the crossroads. The one who stood in front of the cauldron and made Magick possible.

You scan the apartment and find a little altar on a side board.

Your subject belongs to the secret sisterhood of the moon. It can be found throughout the galaxy, not only among human women.

Aurra Sing goes on talking. “You know that prayer you spoke, right before you wanted to blow a hole into your skull.”

A muscle twitches in your jaw.

You were sent here tonight to prevent a suicide from taking place.

Suddenly, you begin to understand the weird aura readings of Darth Sidious earlier on. His genuine worry had shone through his darkness.

“H...h..e… he… is… is gone!” sniffs the human.

“Of course your Barin is gone.”

Now you know that this is not only about the mighty Sith. There is more at play here.

“Nobody can stay alive, when a bomb with a blasting power of...”

The howling of the chubby woman increases again.

“Idiot,” you hiss.

The bounty hunter looks up, her gaze like deadly darts.

“You know nothing, Aurra Sing! Don't mention the Dead!” you speak on and while you do you notice the golden ring of the crying human. She wears it on the ring-finger of her left hand. “Never ever!”

Before the pale alien can bite back anything, you kneel down right next to the two women.

_“Welcome back, She-Moon!_  
_We’re glad to see you again._  
_Another cycle has passed_  
_Another month gone bye_  
_And our lives have moved forward._  
_Today is a new day…”_

The crying stops immediately and a pair of big human eyes, their actual colour hard to define, glance at you.

“Was that the wrong prayer?” you ask and a part of you is suddenly anxious.

A shy smile appears on the face of the woman called Nagina. “That was beautiful, but not the one I had in mind.”

Following an instinct, you reach out with your right hand and she takes it, her grip uncertain, but full of love.

“Then teach me your way, sister,” you speak, meaning every word of your request, oddly.

Her smile widens.

_“Gracious Goddess of the Moon_  
_Mistress of magic and rebirth_  
_Lady of the harvest_  
_And Mother of the earth_  
_I invite you to join me in this, my rite._  
_I bid You, Hail and...!”_

You do not wait for the word _'welcome'_ to come forth from Nagina's lips. The Force enables you to take out Aurra in an instance.

Gurgling and thrashing, your subject dangles in the air.

You are proud that she fights back. There is still enough will left in her to fight for her life. That is good news.

“Shooting yourself in the head, you coward?” you yell at her. “I did not come all the way to find your corpse. Or have you crying all the time. My client said something of a pyjama party. Let's do that!”

Her gaze becomes glassy.

You soften your grip on her windpipe.

“Think very hard now, Nagina!” Your voice is above a whisper, but that does not make it any less intense. “I can finish you off now or you can be the wonderful hostess that I believe you to be. What is your choice?”

You stare her down, until you see her mouthing the word 'hostess'.

“Excellent choice!” you praise her and let go of her.

While she sinks down on the floor, yapping like a little pittin, you get up and have a further look through the room.

Unerringly, you pick up the holoframe that shows a bearded man in his late forties.

“Your husband was Corellian, right?” you demand to know.

Still bereft of speech she nods.

“If he died due to an explosion he had a beautiful death,” you suggest. “He became star dust in an instant. That is the dream of every Corellian out there. To reunite with space.”

She looks hurt, but you need to move on.

“But the death you had in mind for yourself is plain stupid.”

Guilt spreads over her features.

“I do not understand what your connection to my client is, but I know him to be a powerful man. Someone who has no time for bantha poodoo. Tonight he explained to me how urgently I was needed here. He even asked me to bring along a tooth brush.”

To see Nagina this broken tugs a bit at your heart.

“I do not have the luxury of a tooth brush. Nor do I have any slippers or a decent pyjama.” You jut your jaw. “But I will tie you and this wermo woman up, guarding the two of you the entire night if I must.”

A big moan comes forth from Aurra Sing, who slowly regains her consciousness again.

“I am even prepared to wait until my client returns to Coruscant. Just to make sure he gets you alive. If he wants to kill you, fine. But you will not die on my watch. Is that understood?”

She nods.

“Good. Now tell me where the cooling pads are in this apartment, because I do not trust you anywhere near the kitchen right now.”

You think of sharp knives and other items a desperate person would use: wine bottles or a skewer.

By holding on to the living-room table, Nagina draws herself up. “I am sorry that I am such trouble to you, Mistress Ventress.”

You grant her a lopsided smile. “I would rather say that you mean a lot of unnecessary trouble to yourself. My client must have foreseen that.”

“Sidious is my uncle,” she offers somewhat shyly, a cute blush on her face making her seem twenty years younger.

“I do not want to know the specifics,” you state. “The less I know about my client the better.”

Yet a part of you is aware that you already gained more insight into his life than you should have. Sooner or later there will be a payback, but not the one you had imagined before, surely.

Aurra Sing sits up groggily. “If you have given that ugly moon face all my cookies in the meantime, I'll finish you off myself!” she curses.

“Of course not,” stutters Nagina. “Here, let me help you!”

While your subject helps the bounty hunter up on the red leather sofa, more memories from your childhood bubble up.

You walk towards Aurra Sing and hand her all the weapons that you have on you. “I want you to hide them somewhere safe until my shift ends here.”

Nagina blushes again, scarlet red this time. Somehow she is as colourful as a rainbow gem. You start to like that. She is a bit exhausting, but true fun at the same time.

The pale alien grasps your weaponry. “Why would you, of all people, trust someone like me?”

“Trust is the most essential ingredients within the Sisterhood I was once born into,” you offer for consideration “and we need it here if we are to live through the night.”

“Sisters?” snarls Aurra Sing. “We ain't no sisters, moon face!”

“Why not?” interrupts Nagina, a new clarity inside her. “All three of us know how it feels to end up at the wrong end of a whip, right?”

Her words are like a fist straight into your guts.

“We are all orphans and came too close to the dark side of the Force.”

You hope she stops speaking or you'll make her yourself.

“What about me renting a holovid movie for the rest of the night? You could make popcorn, Aurra, and Mistress Ventress could go to the late-night kiosk and get us a huge bucket full of ice cream.”

You and the bounty hunter exchange a glare.

“Please?” asks Nagina and looks so hopeful that it touches a spot deep inside your soul you almost had forgotten about.

Aurra Sing slumps her thin shoulders. “No Vegan Toffee Ice Cream, please.”

“No salted pop corn, if you please,” you add quickly. “And no silly love story.”

The pale alien smiles at you tentatively. “Now we are talking.”

“Caramel and cookie dough flavour?” Nagina asks.

You nod and so does Aurra Sing.

When you choose a holovid much later on, it is a martial arts movie.

Your hostess falls asleep half-way through it, her mouth smeared with ice cream.

“Is she always this way?” you whisper.

Aurra Sing considers before answering. “Yes.”

“How long do you know each other.”

“Since a Boonta Eve Classic more than ten years ago. Must be eleven.”

“She is into pod racing?” You raise a brow.

“Sidious is and she simply loves quality time with him.” Aurra Sing twitches her nose. “Well, that is not the whole picture. Anakin Skywalker used to be a big idol of hers.”

“Skywalker,” you hiss.

“Yeah, beats me, too. But that is Nagina for you. She favours the underdogs.”

You bite your underlip, before you dare to ask, “Was she ever enslaved?”

Aurra Sing crooks her head, her pony tail swinging along. “I would say that growing up with a Sith lord is hard.”

You look straight into the face of the softly snoring human. “But he cares,” you argue.

“Not enough, nor in a healthy way, if you ask me.” A hard shadow falls on the pale face. “He should be here tonight, but the war is more important than she is. There will always be things more important than her. His disinterest is not the scary thing though. When he has too much time on hand then his attention is almost crushing her to death.”

“The Sith, huh?” your snort. “Always living in extremes, like boarder-liners.”

Aurra Sing winks at you, but then she asks, “Why are you so keen on becoming one of them if you do not share their values? Why not stay a dark Force user and take all the liberties you can? Living after a codex never bodes well.”

You need to ask. “Are the rumours true that you were once a Jedi, too? A padawan?”

She answers you with a counter-question, “You are from Dathomir, right? Why don't you go back and let Dooku try to win his battles without you?”

The silence is only interrupted by Nagina's snoring.

“More ice cream?” you say after a while.

“Yes, please!”

After you swallowed a spoon full of sweet sin, you have another look at Nagina. “You think she is stable now?”

“That might take a while.” The bounty hunter starts stroking the face of the sleeper. “Mourning usually does. But for now she is fine. In the end she was just lonely and he was not here to stop her considering something very stupid.”

“What will happen if she ever gives in to her darkness?” you muse.

“You mean her depressions or the dark side?”

“Her death wish,” you answer uneasily.

Something glitters in Aurra Sing's eyes and it is not tears. “Then this galaxy as we know it might stop to exist. Sidious cares too much for his niece and might as well blow us all up.”

“I will make sure to check out on Nagina regularly!” you promise yourself.

“You better keep a low profile in that case. She has a breathtaking network. Some of her foster siblings are agents of Republic Intelligence. Then she has friends and acquaintances in unusual places. Oh and her godfather is Sate Pestage himself, an absolute _wakamancha_.”

You are sure you opened up all gates to welcome death tonight, but in the end you are glad you came here. To be with Nagina is by far more interesting than the LiMerge building at night.

**Author's Note:**

> Sources:  
> Some of the lyrics of the song “Break it up” by Scooter (1996)  
> The complete Wermos Guide in Huttese, a SW language website  
> The section “How to speak Huttese” from My Stars Collection Weebly com, a SW website  
> The Cyndi Lauper re-make (1992) of the Roy Orbison song “I drove all night”  
> Two Wiccan prayers to the moon (goddess)  
> Bow to a certain HBO fantasy series named “Game of Thrones” and a character named John Snow  
> The wonderful SW novel “Dark disciple” about Ventress & Vos, written by Christie Golden (2015)  
> Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki  
> Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Encyclopaedia


End file.
